


a fox's wedding

by Magepaw



Series: lucilius is the worst [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Consensual Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Gift Fic, Kitsune, M/M, Masochism, Murder Husbands, Sexual Content, Warning: Belial (Granblue Fantasy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magepaw/pseuds/Magepaw
Summary: Tails of all colors stream iridescent behind him as he bounds on all fours, darting across the field. Lucilius halts at the cliff's edge and whirls to bare his fangs at his pursuers, tails fanning out in a deadly rainbow behind him. The reluctant dogs circle him slowly, ears and tails tucked low at the sight of him, whites of their eyes shining with fear.They should have feared him from the start.
Relationships: Belial/Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy), Helel Ben Sahar/Lucilius (Granblue Fantasy), Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Series: lucilius is the worst [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1880200
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	a fox's wedding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlumTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/gifts).



> /mumbles something about marlfox and leaves another dead bird on ellie's doorstep
> 
> **MIND THE TAGS,,,** you should know what you're in for here :);;;;  
> \- mister fur's wild ride includes religion, murder, eating people, and no happy ending  
> \- past ciofaa -> endgame faaberi  
> \- general note, there are some loose references to folktales but they were used as inspiration and not followed faithfully! the only hard rule is that kitsune can shapeshift into ANY person regardless of gender/age, so _pronouns might be used interchangeably if the person is basing it on appearance alone_  
>  \- there is brief/implied misgendering for that reason so be aware! transfaa rights

Lucilius runs as he has never run before.

He stumbles over exposed root and stone, breathless and trembling, but pressing on. Each labored inhale burns in his lungs. He coughs and chokes, but there is no stopping here to rest. The scrapes on his palms leave smears along the maple trunks as red as their leaves. Branches tear at his silks, leaving tattered flags of white and gold to mark his flight up the mountainside. He has long kicked off his impractical shoes, shed the useless outer layers of his ceremonial gown, and still, this body falters when he needs it most. Pathetic.

The hounds are hot on his trail, driven wild with the scent of his blood in their nostrils. The hungry pack moves like one great beast, a roiling sea of black eyes and snapping, slavering jaws. Their clamoring voices grate against his ears, crying out for his flesh, the threat of their fangs drawing ever closer.

Lucilius has always despised dogs. He runs on.

The dense thicket abruptly opens into a clearing, dazzling sunlight lancing free of the shadowy canopy of leaves. The sheer face of a cliff drop waits beyond. There is no point in prolonging his charade. In a snap of his fingers and flash of blue fire, Lucilius is gone, and a fox runs in his place.

Tails of all colors stream iridescent behind him as he bounds on all fours, darting across the field. Lucilius halts at the cliff's edge and whirls to bare his fangs at his pursuers, tails fanning out in a deadly rainbow behind him. The reluctant dogs circle him slowly, ears and tails tucked low at the sight of him, whites of their eyes shining with fear. They should have feared him from the start.

Blue eyes harden into chips of ice as he glowers at the lord emerging in front of the pack astride his golden horse. The first arrow thuds into the earth beside him. Lucilius does not flinch at the warning.

He can smell the enchantments on the arrowhead, searing the air in his nostrils. The family's relic was a treasure forged to keep him at bay. Now that they are far, far from the wards in the gilded bars of the palace, Lucilius will not be contained by such trinkets.

"My bride," Lord Sahar calls, lowering his enchanted bow. "My beloved… Will you not cease this foolishness and return home where you belong?"

The fox's paws bleed from his wounds. His tongue lolls, panting from exhaustion, but his muzzle crinkles in a defiant sneer. Lucilius is no trophy to be kept, whether it be his hand in marriage or his head on a pike. Never again will he belong to this man.

"Do not speak to me of home. I was forced to serve your family for centuries. All your fortune is thanks to me," Lucilius spits. He has had many names, but only one he chose for himself. It will be the only name he answers to now. "Bowing my head and biding my time, waiting for the chance to get my hoshi-no-tama back. Now your strongest warriors are dead. No one can stop me. You will suffer until you beg for death as a mercy."

"It is a tragedy to see my beloved wear the skin of a monster," Lord Sahar replies. He has the audacity to sound sad about it, his piteous gaze rife with longing. Disgusting. "But it is not too late to save your soul. Your sins as a youkai will be forgiven if you surrender your fire to me willingly. We can go back to the way things were—"

" _You_ , who held my very soul in your hands for your amusement, ask _me_ to submit willingly to life as a human?"

"Yes," Lord Sahar continues blithely. "As my bride, you will want for nothing. You will be loved and cherished, and our bloodline will be all the stronger for such a union. Abandon this monstrous form, and we shall live in harmony once more, as equals. Did you not tell me, when you accepted our betrothal, that you desired to be a good wife above all else?"

Lucilius laughs. It is not a human sound, nor a mirthful one, but the bone-chilling shriek of a fox. It echoes down the cliff side, reverberating and folding back on itself until the distorted noise becomes something unrecognizable entirely. The hounds fall back quivering, the horse stamps her hooves and tosses her head, but Helel ben Sahar does not back down, because he is the most foolish mortal of them all.

Then Lucilius ignites, his fur blazing in a maelstrom of blue fire. Nine tails lash out, scattering the hounds like leaves on the wind. The bowstring twangs, and the shaft sinks deep into his flank. The searing pain of the purified arrowhead draws a groan unbidden from his throat, quickly stifled. One is not enough to seal his magic, but it seeps into his veins like a poison, burning hotter with every beat of his heart.

Lucilius whirls on his fiancé, dragging him from his saddle and shaking him like the prey he is. The panicked horse screams and bolts into the woods. The human tumbles free in a tangle of loose cloth and long hair. Lucilius crashes down on him with both forelegs, claws tearing into anything he can reach. He rips through layers of robes and layers of flesh, exposing the glistening rainbow of his offal to the open air. His ears are deaf to the human's cries.

Lucilius can feel nothing but the hot rage that consumes him as his jaws stretch wider and wider, ready to swallow him whole. For a moment, he and Sahar lock eyes, and he drowns not in fear but in a bottomless well of melancholia. How Lucilius despises this lonely, stupid man, this gilt symbol of arrogance and frivolity and faith. Then the bowstring sings out again at point blank range. This time, the arrow lodges in his throat.

Lucilius chokes, staggering back a pace. His flames sputter. Then the enchanted arrow surges light through his body, blinding him in agony. He twists and writhes, thrashing in the dirt like a rabid animal. His spine arches, jaws snapping on air, screaming and screaming as every fiber in his being splits in twain.

Then blue flames vanish and blue sky swallows him as the kitsune slips off the cliff's edge. Lucilius falls and falls, until everything goes mercifully black.

* * *

When Lucilius wakes, he finds his shape is human again. Fragments of his dreams slip away from his awareness – the high ceilings of the palace, painted with ostentatious murals sprawling over gold; the walls of the temple where he was to be wed, ornate and strung with charms to bless their holy union. It is lost to him, and he is relieved. Bleary eyes blink, trying to make sense of the muted colors swimming around him.

There are no trees or blue sky above him, but instead, broken rafters and spider webs. The air is damp, thick on his tongue with mold and disuse. An undercurrent more sickly sweet and ominous runs beneath it. The untrustworthy ceiling sags under the weight of its roof as though it will collapse at any moment.

There is someone kneeling beside him in prayer.

Lucilius had been pious, once. A good messenger fox, faithful and pure; a different name, a different life. He knows a shrine when he sees one, even an abandoned one like this. And he knows the difference between a priest and a fake.

The liar raises his head, a disarming smile on his handsome features.

"Good morning, Faa-san. Don't move around too much now, or you'll pull my stitches out," he says, fangs flashing.

"Who are you," Lucilius means to ask, though it comes out as an ugly rasp. He raises his hand to touch his throat and finds the arrow is gone, but the wound is still slick with fresh blood. Lucilius traces the neat row of sutures along his neck, eyes burning cold with the questions he cannot voice. Why does this stranger speak in such a familiar tone? Why has he been spared?

"I found you like this and nursed you back to health. Don't look so ungrateful," the false priest pouts. "Open wide."

He dangles a small scrap of meat near Lucilius' lips, which remain stubbornly pressed shut. The priest sighs and pulls his hood back, revealing tousled black hair and crimson eyes. Lucilius suspects who he must be, _what_ he must be, but it's not until he catches sight of the long black tail peeking out from beneath the priest's robes that his suspicions are confirmed. _Yako_.

The priest's smile widens, baring his fangs as he swallows the morsel himself.

"My tails," Lucilius croaks. "I lost my tails."

"Mmm, all but your first one," the black fox corrects as he points, altogether too cheerfully, to the one limp tail tucked against Lucilius' slight frame. "You almost died for real back there. Thanks to some nasty charm work on those arrows, your wounds won't heal. At least not for a while."

He fishes a pair of small silver objects out of his robe pocket and holds them close to Lucilius' face for examination. The arrowheads, engraved with the Helel family's blessing. Lucilius hisses at the sight of them, which makes the fox smile oddly and pocket them again.

"They penetrated so deep I had to cut those out of you. Sorry for sticking my fingers in your holes, but they were just too hot and wet to resist..."

Lucilius does not spare the effort to glare at the crude phrasing. His mind races through calculations, sifting and discarding his chances at survival. If the force of the relic bow shattered all but one of his tails, then he is barely more than human now. His tails have enough power on their own to manifest as newborn kitsune, like this fool who insisted on staying by his side. This one might be loyal, but Lucilius has no reason to believe the others will be. He has to consume the eight he's lost if he wants to return to his full strength. He has no way of confirming if Sahar survived his wounds as well – and either way, surely he is still being hunted for the slaughter he's committed. He will either be beheaded for his crimes, or worse still, Sahar will drag him back into the palace wards while he is powerless to resist. Time is against him.

"What are you waiting for," Lucilius rasps with difficulty, struggling to sit upright. "Get closer so I can absorb you."

"Ah, ah, ah," the tail chides, pushing him back down. Lucilius, regrettably, is too feeble to resist even this. "I'd love to be inside you right now, but we should really save the best for last."

Lucilius tsks impatiently. Loyal he may be, but obedient he is not. What a nuisance.

"Besides," the tail continues. "I like this shape. It's more fun to have a body of my own. I make this look good, don't I?"

Lucilius narrows his eyes pointedly at the white robes.

"You disagree? I thought white would be a good look for me. Very shrine-appropriate." The black fox chuckles, running a hand down his broad chest. The garments are made for a smaller man, and strain at the fastenings. "Don't worry, _he's_ not using them anymore. I saved some meat for you, though, in case you get hungry."

He jerks a thumb carelessly toward a mass crumpled in the corner, which Lucilius distantly recognizes as a half-eaten corpse. An unlucky pilgrim seeking refuge, then, and not one of Sahar's men. He wonders how well hidden they are like this, off in the mountains. There will be search parties soon.

"Get to the point," Lucilius hisses.

"Give me a name," the fox demands. His tail waves in a lazy circle behind him as he kneels by Lucilius, stroking a reverent hand through his hair. "Let me stay with you like this, and I'll help you hunt the seven who abandoned you. You can't do it in this state. You can barely speak. You need me."

"Foolish. What's to stop me from taking you last, once I have the strength of eight against your one?" Lucilius wheezes, voice cracking painfully. Clearly this tail has not inherited his intellect.

But the fox only chuckles again, his hand sliding down to test his handiwork, the fresh stitches in Lucilius' throat. "Mmm, I wouldn't mind if you saved me for last." His probing fingers come back coated in red, which he raises to his mouth, pink tongue lapping eagerly at the blood. "If you utterly destroy this body, piece by piece… Eat me slowly, savor every morsel… How intimate. Then I'll still be a part of you, in the end."

Lucilius watches him with a scowl, unable to ascertain his motives after all. If he simply desired autonomy, he could have left Lucilius to perish. If it was power he was after, he could hunt the seven tails for himself. Regardless of his shiftiness, he is unfortunately correct – Lucilius has little choice but to accept his help. He would do better to save his energy for now.

"Belial," he whispers.

"What's that?" the fox asks, eyes gleaming red. He leans in close, drawn irresistibly to the sound of it on Lucilius' pallid lips. "Say it again."

"Your name. You are Belial. Now find my tails."

* * *

Belial brings him the first tail that night. The ash-grey fox has no memories from before the split, and was found wandering the area trying to uncover any clues to where he'd come from. It was easy for the liar to gain his trust and lead him back to Lucilius, one friendly arm slung over his shoulders to steer him. Gullible fool.

"He calls himself Azazel," Belial announces, an amused twist to his smile. It was clear what he thought about a name chosen for oneself rather than bestowed by Lucilius.

Azazel straightens proudly, eyes shining with some force of youthful arrogance. His silver tail whips in excited circles behind him. Lucilius does not like how expressive he is, a creature ruled by base emotions. Inferior specimen.

"Bring him here, Belial. Faster," Lucilius orders.

Azazel opens his mouth to speak. Lucilius watches impassively as Belial unsheathes his claws and tears out his throat.

"Welcome home, brother," Belial winks at the dying man he scoops into his arms.

Azazel gargles something unintelligible as his body spasms in Belial's arms. His eyes glaze dark with the realization of this terrible betrayal, but – in a moment it no longer matters. Belial lays the body gently on the floor beside Lucilius' mat, bowing his head as he presents his offering.

Lucilius' fingers slip from the voluminous sleeves of his robes, and sharpen into claws. The chest cavity splits easily, ribs splintering like twigs beneath his greedy hands. Belial watches with rapt interest as Lucilius prises the still-beating heart free from its fibrous constraints. The meat is slippery, but he chokes it down whole, stitches bulging in protest as he swallows with difficulty. It was always his heart to reclaim.

Azazel's empty shell ignites into flames before disintegrating into ash. Already Lucilius' neck wound is healing at the edges, some color leaching into his shock-white skin. Two tails peek from beneath Lucilius' robes, one colorless and limp, one ash-grey and glossy in the velvety light of Belial's fox fire.

Belial purrs in satisfaction, nuzzling against Lucilius' neck, lapping at the blood leaking from his stitches.

"Keep your filthy tongue away from me," Lucilius murmurs, pushing Belial's face away. "You'll infect it."

Belial only chuckles, the low sound vibrating not unpleasantly against his skin. Both of them are pleased to hear the hoarseness of Lucilius' damaged vocal cords has all but dissipated. A bloody hand strays to Belial's hair, patting him once in reward.

* * *

When several days pass and no other tails dare make a move, Lucilius and Belial take turns scouting the forest. Lucilius' claws feverishly scratch maps into the rotting wood of the abandoned shrine with each update. He grows stronger with each passing day, but if Sahar still breathes, he will grow stronger as well. Lucilius will not be caught unprepared, not this time.

It is on one of these scouting excursions that Lucilius discovers another shrine further down the mountain, closer to the road and therefore, the capitol. It is larger than their desecrated headquarters, and better tended by the pilgrims who find it. Instead of being shadowed and overgrown with brush and thorns, a sprawling garden lines the stone walkway. A still pond reflects the rich blue of the sky, dotted with the vibrant green of lily pads, and the bejeweled flash of fish scales below. The moat separates the sacred from the mundane with only stepping stones to traverse its surface.

The garden boy eyes Lucilius with darkening suspicion as he trespasses on their holy ground. He clutches his shovel a little closer to his chest at the sight of his stitched-together throat. Lucilius can hear the patter of his rabbit heart quicken with fear.

Lucilius ignores him.

It is the figure kneeling in the island shrine at the center of the pond that demands his full attention. There kneels a good and dutiful shrine fox, a shard he discarded long, long ago. His hands are clasped in prayer, his robes as white as the tail curled behind him. Unlike Belial, the zenko is perfectly suited to the color.

Lucilius sees how the arches of the vermilion gates are framed with flowering cherry, blooming out of season. The stone lanterns are lit with the eerie glow of blue fox fire, never to be extinguished by mortal means. The wind stirs the red leaves of the maples, but the surface of the pond shows no ripples. His power has taken root here.

"Why do you wear his face, youkai," the garden boy accuses. "Why have you come here!"

Lucilius shoots him a disinterested glance. The human wielding the shovel like a weapon is dressed in little more than rags, hands calloused from hard labor, skin smudged with dirt – but his eyes shine in rapture when he steals a glance at the serene grace of the shrine fox he is defending. A naïve human, bewitched by the beauty of a kitsune. Perhaps he wishes for a fox bride. How trite.

"I do not wear his face, brat," Lucilius retorts. "He wears mine."

Lucilius stares from the far side of the pond, tail lashing behind him. He lies. They are mirrors of each other. It is not the golden hair and smooth, shallow smile of warlord Helel ben Sahar that he stole, but the finer features of a long-forgotten ancestor, the first of his line. An old friend. A mistake.

Lucilius smiles. The branches of the cherry tree shudder, and all at once, the blossoms wither and die. The lanterns are snuffed out. The clear blue water of the pond clouds, water churning into a murky crimson. The koi float belly-up, scales going dull.

"Demon!"

An ugly sob hitches in the human's throat. His grip on the shovel shakes as he points it at Lucilius' chest. "Stay away from Lucifer," he tries to threaten.

It is a pathetic display of loyalty. He is little more than a kit himself, still wet behind the ears, yet he thinks to interfere with matters far beyond his ken. Lucilius considers whether the scant meat on his bones would even be worth the effort it would take to butcher him.

"Lucifer," Lucilius repeats slowly, tasting the syllables on his tongue. It sounds too similar to Lucio to be coincidence. His lip curls up to bare his fangs.

The garden boy flinches at the monstrous sight of his teeth and takes a swing. In a flash, there is Belial, looming head and shoulders above him. Belial catches the shovel between his claws and tosses it harmlessly aside.

"Now, now, the grownups are talking," Belial sneers at the unarmed human. The garden boy raises his shaky fists in response, eyes blazing like coals. "But if you want to play rough, I'm more than— oof," he grunts, as the human's fist thuds into his jaw.

Belial raises an eyebrow, a glimmer of interest twisting his face into an ugly grin.

"Stop playing with your food and just eat it," Lucilius hisses. This is taking too long. He grows tired of them both, and turns aside.

The white fox is watching them, finally having noticed the disturbance. He is pretty like a doll, painted and cosseted and hollow inside. He does not move from his position, even as his eyes go round with childlike surprise.

"Sandalphon," the white fox mouths, looking between them with mild concern. "And… Tomoyo. Why do you fight?"

Lucilius stiffens. The wound at his throat throbs anew. Fresh blood trickles hot and wet down his front. Some tails received no memories in the split, and some, it seems, had unearthed memories better left forgotten. Sandalphon too has frozen at the sound of his name on Lucifer's lips, the trembling in his slender frame subsiding into calm.

Belial looks not at Lucifer, but at Lucilius, waiting for the word.

Belial and Lucifer are of equal power, but he and Belial together can surely overpower him. The pet human is not a part of the equation. But something in him has stirred at the sound of the long-forgotten voice, and with it, his desire to defile that which is holy is quelled. He does not want to reclaim this part of his past, not yet. It can continue to exist outside of him.

"When I call for you, you will come," Lucilius commands.

Lucifer says nothing. He will acquiesce, for he has no reason to resist.

Lucilius finally looks at Belial, and he does not miss the flicker of dissatisfaction in those red eyes. Sandalphon is rigid in their path, daring them to move closer. In a flash of fire, Lucilius reverts to his true form, and bounds away, Belial ever his shadow.

* * *

"I know what you did to Azazel," the dusk-purple fox snarls. "I'll devour you before you ever get the chance!"

This one is sharper, cleverer, the seed of rebellion in her glare; she has been observing them, and Lucilius likes her a little more for that, for deciding it was smarter to try and assassinate him while he is weakened than to try and escape his grasp later. He imagines he might do the same, if their roles were reversed. But of course, she is but a fraction of the whole, and she too will be returned to him.

Belial dances out of reach of her sunset flames, only to narrowly miss the swipe of her claws as she drives him back against a tree.

"Oho, this little kit has some fangs, Faa-san!" Belial jeers. He is always seeking attention in louder and flashier ways. It is an annoying habit.

"I am no kit. I am Olivia," she barks, catching his fist in her claws and wrenching his arm at a painful angle.

Belial moans in loud appreciation and slides his knee high between Olivia's thighs, pressing into her heat. She hisses at the unwanted contact and jumps back, dusky tail bristling behind her. Lucilius suspects he may be having too much fun with this.

"I like the shape of that body you've taken," Belial licks his lips as they stalk each other in a tight circle, eyes flashing, fangs and claws out. "Do you want to test it out together? I bet I could get all sorts of good noises to come out of you."

"Don't you touch me, traitor. You should be fighting him, not me. He'll eat you too," she snarls and lunges at Belial, and this time he catches her claws with his own, grappling with her in place.

"'Traitor'? This body has always belonged to Faa-san, to use as he pleases…" Belial pouts, feigning offense. "That's cold, when you're the one rejecting him in your attempt to assert yourself on top. Don't get me wrong, femdom is hot and all, but don't expect me to roll over for you just because you put on heels—"

With Belial distracting Olivia, and her back exposed to Lucilius, it takes only an instant for Lucilius to plunge his arm through her chest and out the other side. She collapses to her knees with a choked gasp, head lolling to one side.

Lucilius yanks his arm back, bloody prize gripped tight within black claws. She falls, silenced.

"—But hey, nice try, Livi! Better luck next lifetime," Belial laughs, stepping over the flames of her disintegrating corpse. "Ahh, are you having fun yet, Faa-san? I'm all worked up now, watching you thrust your way in like that!"

Lucilius turns to observe his fit of laughter wordlessly, blood smeared from the corner of his mouth. Belial watches him with such naked desire burning in those red eyes, but Lucilius cannot fathom what more he could possibly want. Olivia spoke truly – he will be devoured, and Belial knows it. Perhaps it is simply the impulse for destruction that drives him, even if it is his own destruction.

He is not a hollow toy like Lucifer to be filled with the desires of another. Belial is a firework, bursting at the seams with gunpowder and begging for a spark to light him ablaze.

Three tails fan out behind him, two swaying lazily in the forest breeze, the third as limp as it has been since his birth. His wounds have closed. He peels the string of stitches out of his throat and drops it carelessly to the ground, exposing the jagged white scar that remains.

As long as it doesn't interfere with his plans, Lucilius supposes he does not mind the odd company.

* * *

The forest is quieter when Belial is off scouting. Sahar's men are combing the mountainside, but the invisible yako is built for stealth, and slips easily through the trees to collect information for him. Lucilius is scratching search party routes onto his wall map when Belial flickers suddenly into view, small paws scurrying in through the broken torii.

His yako form is small enough to fit neatly on Lucilius' lap, so there he alights, eyes shining bright like rubies against the coal black of his fur. Lucilius swats the pest away, and in a flash of crimson fire and a peal of laughter, Belial resumes his human shape, draping himself over Lucilius' narrow shoulders. This time Belial's made a mockery of his priest's robes, cutting away swaths of fabric to expose the curves of his body. Lucilius does not deign to comment, and waits impatiently for the report.

"Found 'em. Four of the tails have formed a pact," Belial reports, lips dangerously close to the shell of Lucilius' ear. "They've retreated further north up the mountain, intending to live their lives as nature spirits. But if one of them were to be attacked, the other three will come to their defense. Four versus four means a stalemate for us."

Lucilius makes a soft noise of displeasure and shoves Belial off of his shoulders. He itches to return to his former glory and march on the capitol, so that he can finish burning it to the ground. He does not have the patience for any more delays.

"Shall we go back for Cifer, then? Come back and crush them with five?" Belial suggests, but his eyes remain trained on Lucilius. Waiting for a reaction.

"Did they notice you?"

"Nope."

"Then no," Lucilius snaps. Lucifer isn't going anywhere. He will stay planted in that garden with his pet even if the entire forest burns down around them. "We will divide them now. Once one falls, the other three will be forced to submit to me."

If Belial is stung by the rejection, he's learned to hide it well. "Oookay~ I like the sound of power play," he chuckles appreciatively, one hand touching his chin. "I might have a scene in mind, but it'll require your delicate touch, Faa-san. What do you say?"

* * *

It is the fire-red fox that Belial chooses as his target. Perhaps once, centuries ago, there had lived an honorable shrine maiden. She was dutiful and pious, and in reward for her integrity, she was repaid with the loss of her hoshi-no-tama. And now that girl is dead. Perhaps Belial is gambling on some shards of that honor still existing in one of his tails. Belial has a wicked tongue, perfect for spinning the type of lies she will fall for.

Either way, it is the fire-red fox that finds him collapsed and helpless, and she is the one who does not kill him on sight.

"My tail," he gasps, clutching at her arm. "He tried to devour me! I barely escaped with my life – run, he will come for you next!"

Fire blazes bright around her, crackling and sparking in brilliant oranges and yellows. She would rather fight for an honorable death than live as a coward. It's what he's counting on.

"Lucilius is coming?" she asks sharply.

"Mm, wouldn't that be a sight," Belial sighs wistfully. "But no. The strongest of us that remain – the earth-brown fox. Look at what he did to me. He wants more power. He will take it from all of us."

"Uriel did this to you?" she scowls, disbelief darkening her countenance. Her hand catches him by the collar, but he shows no resistance. "He would never. You lie."

"Go and see for yourself then," Belial challenges, waving a hand at the mess of a trail he left behind. Sweat soaks through the tattered remains of his jacket, dubious fluids ebbing sluggishly down his trembling thighs. He is scarcely able to stand, and slumps as Michael releases her hold. "You'll find my tail at the end of it, and the culprit."

They would all see through an illusion. It had taken only the work of a moment to slash Belial's impractical clothes, batter and bruise his handsome face _– "It has to look real, Faa-san, put your back into it"_ – but the tail is connected not only with muscle, but with bone. And so Belial's labored breathing is real as he grips his own vertebrae in his fist, all that remains of his once-proud tail.

The sick gleam of enjoyment in his gaze is unfortunately real as well.

So Michael runs off to find the black tail, bloodied and discarded, at the edge of Uriel's territory. And when she flies into a rage and attacks him for breaking their pact, Uriel calls for Raphael to protect him. Michael retaliates by calling for Gabriel. The four kitsune tear into each other as equals until all their strength is spent, and they can fight no more.

Belial laughs and laughs at the trick he played, even as he saunters by to collect all four hearts for his Lucilius. And his severed tail, of course; he wonders if Lucilius will be benevolent enough to help him sew the damn thing back on, so he doesn't have to wait for a new one to grow in. Perhaps he will be cruel instead, and Belial will carry the scars of his claws forever – that will also be a kindness, of a different sort. He drapes the tail over his shoulders like a feather boa, whistling cheerfully as he gets to work.

Uriel and Raphael lay in a tangled heap of parts, earth-brown and zephyr-green flames melding as nature reclaims them. Gabriel's head slumps into Michael's lap as Belial finishes with her, saving the fire-red fox for last. Michael has just enough strength left in her human body to clutch at Belial's arm as he hooks a claw into her belly and slices upward.

"Oh, don't give me those puppy dog eyes. You played your role perfectly, Mika," Belial coos, petting her hair with one hand, fishing through her spilled viscera with the other. He winks as he finds the piece he is looking for. Playfully he tosses her heart into the air and catches it again, pleased with himself. "What a good girl you are… or, _were_ , anyway."

The shock and rage in her dying gaze is even more delicious than Azazel's was. Belial shudders with pleasure, a low moan tumbling from his lips as she dissolves into fire at his feet.

"Only one left to go… Faa-san."

* * *

The grip on Belial's wrist is like iron, making the fine bones in his wrist grind against one another. Belial draws a shuddering breath, face flushed, as Lucilius' pink tongue darts out, lapping deliberately at the blood dripping from his fingers. The scrape of his teeth do not break the skin, but the way Belial is squirming under his every touch, one would almost think he wanted them to.

"That was good, right, Faa-san?" Belial babbles underneath him, thighs pressed together to contain a desperate heat. He has bitten his lip so hard Lucilius can see the blood dribbling down his chin. "Four tails at once, I think that deserves some reward, right? Please?"

Lucilius pulls Belial's finger out of his mouth with a wet pop. Saliva still hangs between his colorless lips and the digits of Belial's hand. The taste of his cruelty is both sharp and sweet, coppery tang lingering on his palate. He hungers for more. He is close now, so close to being complete again. He presses his face into the crook of Belial's neck, tasting the pulse of his jugular, feeling the thrum of the heartbeat quickening at his touch. He thinks he understands now the fire that smolders at the core of this body. He wants to consume it.

Belial is still weak from his wounds, eyes fever-bright from pain, but he stares at Lucilius like he is the only star shining in the pitch black of night. 

"Fool," Lucilius murmurs. "You haven't yet been devoured. That should be reward enough."

Belial moans as Lucilius pushes him onto his back. A rainbow of tails fans out to cage him in as Lucilius leans in and licks the blood from Belial's lips. Belial arches into the kiss, hands roving boldly down the curve of Lucilius' spine, caressing every inch of him with worshipful detail. He is warm to the touch, so warm, and Lucilius marvels at it. He lets his robes fall open, and Belial gathers him into his arms, willing and eager to please.

This is not the first man to spread his legs for Lucilius, panting and whining beneath him. He was pious, yes, but not _that_ pious.

But this is, perhaps, the first time Lucilius has desired it with no motives of his own to fulfill. Nothing has been taken from him in exchange. This is an offering, and he will accept; he will demand more, and Belial will give all that he has to give, and then some. All of Belial is his, his to use, his to claim, _his_. Given what Belial is, perhaps this makes Lucilius a narcissist. As he closes his eyes and gives himself over to the pleasure, he finds he does not have it in himself to care.

* * *

Smoke rises from the south. The dark plume spirals lazily into the clouds, a blot of ink staining the blue sky. It billows thick from the bones of the ruined shrine by the road. Lucilius watches impassively from his vantage point on the cliff as the white fox runs and runs, leaving the fire blazing at his back. From this height, he is but a speck of white swallowed by the vast sprawling green.

Lucilius has always despised dogs. The harshness of their voices grate at his ears even from this distance, clanging and clamoring like a thousand rusted bells. The sea of hounds surges ahead, weaving through the trees, all the while baying for their horsemen to follow in the hunt. There is galloping and shouting behind them, and the voices of men are every bit as ugly as the voices of dogs. It is hundreds against one, and still the one persists.

"He thinks that's you," Sandalphon snickers, seating himself a little too close in his eagerness to watch the show. "Same face, same fox, right? Although I maaay have had a hand in that misunderstanding. Just a little."

Lucilius does not deign to look at him. He catches a glimpse of the golden horse at the head of the riders and curls his lip. He tenses, claws sinking into his palms. So he did survive after all.

"He will not be fooled for long. Lucifer runs instead of defending himself," Lucilius snaps. "Even now, he cares only about leading them away, playing the martyr."

"Are you surprised? If you gave the order, Cifer will fight for you," Sandalphon points out, head tilting to one side. "You said you would call on him. Will you?"

Red eyes wince in mock sympathy as the white fox staggers, a hound's teeth catching at his flank before he darts away again. He is agile, but his pursuers are many. They are maneuvering him to the cliff base, narrowing his path.

"You won't, will you," Sandalphon sighs. "You're abandoning him. Ahh, the colder you are, the hotter I burn…"

Lucilius' frigid stare flickers over to Sandalphon – the tears and dirt on his garb, the soot and sweat on his skin, the rapturous smile tugging too-wide across his plain features – and hisses in revulsion.

"Take that filthy face off already. I can't stand to look at it any longer," Lucilius grouses, swiping a claw at the liar.

Not-Sandalphon cackles as he is toppled onto his back, his true face flickering into view. Belial flutters his eyelashes and grins upside-down at Lucilius, who turns his attention back to Lucifer's plight below.

"You want me to take it off, Faa-san? That's so forward, I like it," he coos, snuggling his face against Lucilius' thigh and pressing a reverent kiss there. "You don't wanna roleplay a little first? I could be your good little garden boy… Lay flowers at your feet and sing your praises while you pretend I don't exist~ don't you want me to tell you how beautiful and blue and perfect your eyes are, and how I could get perfectly lost in their perfection?"

"Disgusting beast," Lucilius mutters.

He knows why Belial led the soldiers to Lucifer's garden. He knows Belial wants him to know. His hand lands on Belial's head in his lap, and he is conflicted with equal desire to stroke his hair and rip his head clean off his shoulders. He supposes he could do both. Belial would welcome any touch at all. He settles for taking a fistful of Belial's hair and yanking it hard, making him pant.

"Harder," Belial whines, but Lucilius ignores him in favor of watching the scene unfold. They both go silent, watching with bated breath.

Below them, the hounds have quieted, the horses gone still. Lucifer and Helel ben Sahar are facing each other. They are motes of gold in the sunlight, two shining fragments of light drawn into the same shadow he casts. Seeing the two of them together stirs a memory that aches in his chest, deep down, something he quashes without remorse. He is not that person anymore.

"Who do you want to live?" Belial asks casually. "You want the last laugh, don't you?"

He cannot hear what words they exchange, but he sees when the weapons are drawn, and his eyes narrow, waiting. It is only natural that the parts of himself he wanted to preserve be ruined by the touch of that man. It would have happened even without Belial's meddling.

"Neither," Lucilius decides with finality. "Both of their hearts are mine to devour."

Sounds carry on the wind: the twang of a bowstring. The thud of a body. The dogs howl. The men cheer.

Lucilius smolders silently, icy rage consuming him.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart," Belial purrs, rising to collect what he is due.

* * *

Belial takes his time descending the cliff. The crowd is long gone when Belial strolls onto the scene, hands stuffed in his pockets. He whistles to shoo away the crows that have begun to gather. The hunters had allowed their dogs to desecrate the corpse. Lucilius won't like that one bit, Belial smirks.

Have the humans realized yet that Lucilius is still out there? Do they know the storm that's coming? He shivers eagerly. The retribution will be as beautiful as it is terrifying, and oh, Belial can't wait to watch it all burn.

He squats down, sifting through a handful of offal strewn like confetti. It will take a while to stitch the core together, but the body won't go up in flames until he's done, so he has all the time in the world. The head, however, is nowhere to be found. Probably back at the palace being mounted on Lord Sahar's wall. He hums pleasantly as he works, clever fingers piecing the colorful bits he needs into place to make his gift. He's handy with a needle and thread.

"Guess he wasn't hollow after all," Belial muses aloud. "Who knew."

" _You_ ," seethes a voice behind him.

Belial, still crouching on the ground, smiles pleasantly. "I was wondering when you were gonna show your face, Sandy," he calls over his shoulder. "Are you done crying and writing sad poetry? You missed the show, y'know."

"You should have killed me when you had the chance!" Sandalphon screams, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You—! You _bastard_ , I'm going to kill you for what you've done! You used my face to turn him in! I would never… Lucifer died thinking I was the one who… who…!"

"Now, now, if you turn around now you can still go back to your garden. What's left of it," Belial jeers. "Plant more pretty little flowers! Fix the busted gates! Live a long, peaceful, boring life where nothing ever happens! Isn't that what Lucifer would have wanted?" He cocks his head to regard the shaking human, and licks his lips lasciviously. "Me, I just wanted to see the stupid look on your face when it all burned down, and hey, we all got what we wanted this way!"

Pain blossoms from his back. Belial gasps. Sandalphon stabbed him with something, something that _burns_ , enough to make a moan tumble unbidden from his lips.

"Don't you dare speak his name, demon," Sandalphon snarls in his ear. He twists the weapon in deeper, drawing a pained grunt. "You'll feel what he felt! I'll make sure you suffer tenfold!"

Light blazes from the wound, setting his veins alight, and Belial knows without seeing it that Sandalphon is gripping the arrow that killed Lucifer. The enchanted arrowhead is poisoning his body from the inside out, and every heartbeat is sweet, sweet agony. He tries to move, but can only slump forward, arms sinking limp at his sides as his power is sealed. Sandalphon presses his slight weight into it, trying to drive it past his ribs and into his lung.

"You really do like the rough stuff… You penetrated so deep on your first try," Belial wheezes a laugh, crumpling into a useless heap. His fingers twitch and convulse as he forces his uncooperative arm out in front of him. "Sorry, Faa-san…"

"…Didn't I warn you not to play with your food? Idiot."

Lucilius looms over him, lip curled at the pitiable sight. Sandalphon releases the arrow shaft and scrambles backward, the whites of his eyes huge with fear. Belial simply gazes up, eyes shining in pure exaltation. His savior, his messiah.

Belial weakly grasps at Lucilius' ankle, the only place he can reach with his shaking hands. Lucilius kicks him out of the way with a disdainful grunt. He stoops down, hands scooping up the cold pile that Belial had scraped and gathered for him. He swallows the mess whole and wipes his arm across his mouth, grimly satisfied.

Belial shudders with terrible laughter, curled in a pained ball at his feet. Sandalphon screams at the sight of the pure white tail curling around Lucilius, eight tails strong, wreathed in the sky-blue fox fire lighting the field ablaze. Somewhere deep in the Helel palace, their grisly prize was dissolving as Lucifer returned to nothingness, and they would know exactly why.

Lucilius' pallid lips curl into a rare smile. Before Sandalphon can move, the kitsune's claws are around his throat, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.

"If you have any remaining desire to keep your pathetic skin on your bones, run and tell Lord Helel ben Sahar what you saw today," Lucilius says calmly, sounding almost bored. "Tell him everything. I want him to know fear. I want him to suffer. Tell him no matter how many times I am killed, I will rise again and my grudge will only grow stronger. I am free to enact my revenge on every single one of his kin, until he is the last of the Helel bloodline, and all that he has built has been undone by my hands. Now leave my sight immediately before I convert your innards to fingerpaint and dye the cliffs red as my warning instead."

Sandalphon drops to the ground in a heap, tears damp against red cheeks as he gasps for air. For a moment he seems to consider charging Lucilius, rage and grief warring on his expressive face. Whatever emotion won the brief struggle, however, left him only with steely determination. He whirls and runs, stumbling in his rush toward the road. Belial catcalls him as he flees, adding insult to injury.

"…Little Sandy's gonna come back with more of those big bad arrows," Belial remarks. "He's gonna be fun to play with once he hits puberty, don't you think?"

"His existence is irrelevant," Lucilius snaps. "Any human would do. I will not be baited into returning to the palace grounds myself. There are too many wards to risk it. But if I bait Sahar, he will be unable to resist coming after me here."

"If you fail, he'll kill you again," Belial murmurs as he looks up at the sky. He is holding onto his shape, but barely.

Lucilius nudges him sharply with the toe of his boot. When he does not respond, Lucilius crouches down and wrenches the arrow from his back. Belial howls in equal parts pain and pleasure, spine arching involuntarily, cheek pressed into the dirt. His claws tear into the grass, a rattling wheeze sounding from his labored chest.

"F… Faa-san," he sobs wetly on the ground, shuddering as the waves of sensation wrack his frame. "Faa-san…"

Lucilius briefly inspects the arrowhead, then tosses it carelessly aside. The charms were the same as the ones used on him during his imprisonment. They cancel regeneration. Sandalphon has killed him.

"You are dying," he informs Belial mildly. "And I kept my promise to save you for last. Be grateful."

Belial laughs, though it dissolves into coughing. He rolls onto his back with difficulty, exposing his belly in submission to Lucilius. "Then take me," he pleads. "Take me now, so that I can watch you do it, so that I can be inside you again, forever. My heart is yours, as is the rest of me, as I always have been. And if your plan fails again, and you're split, I'll be there as many times as it takes. I'll be able to hold you again."

"If I am split again, all the other tails will be freed as well," Lucilius grouses. "Troublesome. I do not intend to fail."

Belial chuckles even as Lucilius' claws come to rest against his sternum, heavy with promise. "Of course, of course," he grins, pressing up into the touch. "Will you take it slow…? Take me apart? Make me simmer and melt under your touch? Ah, I've dreamed of this moment since I first came into existence, Faa-san, please, I want you inside me, I want to be inside you…"

His hands, hot to the touch, cradle Lucilius' claws and guide them against his lips. He kisses each knuckle, the tip of each talon, with fervent worship, even as his failing breath stutters and hitches unevenly. Lucilius leans over him and presses a kiss to his damp forehead, eliciting a soft moan of rapture.

"You are mine," Lucilius promises, kissing him even as he slowly splits Belial open. "Mine. And I intend to keep you that way."

"I'll always be yours, Faa-san. Always," Belial cries in ecstasy, his still-beating heart cradled in the palm of his beloved. Lucilius swallows, and watches Belial shudder and dissolve into crimson fire.

The patter of mountain rain begins to fall from the clear blue sky – a sunshower, fox rain – and Lucilius thinks he can still hear an echo of Belial's mad laughter, if only in his head. He licks his fingers, savoring the flavor, the moment in time. This is what he has chosen. This is his to do with as he pleases.

The black tail unfurls behind him, glossy and proud, and Lucilius rises to his feet, complete and whole once again. The nine tailed kitsune lands on all four paws with a rainbow fanned out behind him. Swift and bright as the flash of a knife, Lucilius runs, but this time, he is not running away. The fox's shriek echoes over the mountainside, ringing through the trees and reverberating against the cliffs and spilling down to the streets of the capital, unearthly and terrifying. They will all learn to fear his name by the finale.

**Author's Note:**

> たまものファー


End file.
